


They can taste your weakness

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [22]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Character Death, Gen, Lots of talking to nobody, Low Sanity, Mental Breakdown, No Plot/Plotless, Rambling, Unhappy memories, Unwell mentality, Via shadow monsters, William wasn't a very happy man, headcanons galore, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: Wandering, finally off a Throne of shadow and fuel, but now They can creep in, start Their feeding.Essentially, that 200 sanity took awhile to accumulate, and at times it's even harder to maintain.





	1. Endless nothings to no one

**Author's Note:**

> Older writing, more like venting than anything else.
> 
> But even the former Shadow King had his low points, out alone in the Constant.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadows will listen to your woes (They will cause every single one of them as well).

“You don't understand.”

His hands shook, curled into claws, ignoring the sharp bite of the autumn cold as he looked down at them for a moment before flashing over to the wavering shadow watching him, cream white eyes unblinking at his face.

Mr. Skitts tilted its head, spines shivering in the grey reality it phased in, the plane that he could just barely see now, how bright the colors around him had become and how wavering and shaky the outlines of things were, trees doubling and tripling in his failing eyesight. Something out in the distance silently screamed, the blank nothing of its roar striking deep into his bones, and he knew it was coming his way.

“But that doesn't matter, or maybe I-”

And he cut himself off, slowly looking away and wrapping his thin arms around himself, a makeshift hug. 

He didn't even know what he was saying. 

Mr. Skitts seemed to know, however. 

It crawled closer, clawed forearms pulling it forward and long tail lashing against the dry grass, not even disturbing the pile up of leaves surrounding it. A cold breeze blew over him, caused him to hunch his shoulders and shiver, teeth gritted into a snarl as the tree above him lost more of its foliage, red and orange leaves floating gently to the ground.

“It would be better if I was-”

Another stop, grimacing painfully at the thought, the words caught behind his teeth. A lump rose in his throat, making him swallow thickly as his vision wobbled, and he shivered, biting his tongue as his legs grew weak and numb.

Would it? Would it truly be better if he was just-?

Mr. Skitts wormed closer, grazing the dry grass with flickering shadow, and after a moment he slid down to his knees, practically level to the creature. He didn't look at it, only tightened his arms around himself, felt that horrible throbbing rush of emptiness in his chest, at the loud thudding of his heart.

Wilson, Wilson had wished for death too, hadn't he? The creatures of the dark would leech the willpower off of the scientist, drain him of everything that he was, and the man still had enough sense in him to beg for death.

He, however, couldn't do that.

Beg. He wouldn't beg, no matter what. It was always a command, never something as lowly as _begging_.

His thoughts were starting to taper off, get more and more entangled together, and he raised a hand to press against his forehead, hissing in a deep breath. He had closed his eyes, ignored Mr. Skitts, ignored the silent thrumming of the monstrous thing coming towards him, hungry for who he was, his very being that it would drain from him even as it ripped his physical body apart.

“If I could I would-”

He spoke nonsense now, whatever out of his mouth not fully recognized, and he bowed his head at the silent whispers from the creature in front of him, his own words much too loud and obnoxious, sound that needed to fade away soon enough, his face snarling as his voice grew louder with every word.

“-it's not, it's not about the what, it is the why that-”

“-yet that does not matter, it never did, here or there-”

“-and if I had then, what would have been done after-”

“-not my fault, I caused it but it was to chase away-”

“-don't regret, never, I am assured, I loved it-”

“-if I could just again, then maybe I could control better-”

“-change their minds, make them listen, believe, even if it's not true-”

“-all that matters is mine, and it is only me that doesn't, so I don't matter-”

“-yet they do!”

His breath hitched, sudden huff of earth scented air, his face against the dirt and hands pressed against his eyes, back bowed and gasping as a shudder of fitful emotion ran through him.

With it was a wave of sudden harsh feeling, gagging at the heavy despair that crashed over him, gulping in air as he fought the gasping sobs that were trying to rip from his chest.

“They do! They do, they do, they do!”

He snarled, face twisted with hate, and he curled up tighter, ignored the wavering world around him and the silent footfalls of the monster slowly approaching, ignored it all at the sudden shock of realization.

It felt like he was being ripped apart piece by piece, except he wasn't, not just yet, but his hands felt bloodied and bent with his own harsh panting and he held his head and rocked, forehead against the ground. He grinded his teeth, seething against nothing and everything, trying to remember the why of it but only knowing the what of it instead.

“-they get to be and yet I get nothing I started this I caused this this is mine it's mine it's all mine I own it I own them it's mine-!”

“-mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Something seemed to break in him, a harsh sob at the end of his words, some sort of pitiful cry as he dug his palms against his eyes and ignored his own tears, all hissing spitefulness gone in a puff of crying smoke.

He stilled for a moment, trembling fitfully as he gagged on his own emotions, throat closing up and dragging his hands up to claw into his hair, eyes shut tight as the ground was peppered with his tears.

And then he screamed, loud and keening and oh so very pitiful, feeble, screamed into the dirt and dry grass and shattered autumn leaves, screamed every bit of emotion that he could feel out of him, hands digging into his hair.

And then he stopped, voice tapering off into nothing, huffing and puffing for air as his lungs strained, hands loosening on his head even as more tears fell from his closed eyes, wet face speckled with the very dirt he had been hiding in.

All the energy went out of him, was already gone, mind numbed and empty as he breathed, in and out slowly, stuttered and halting. 

Something whispered nearby, something close and looming, ever patient.

It waited for him, waited as he finally sat up, wiping at his eyes and stuttering breath, for a moment trying to control himself before just surrendering to the steady flow of tears that trailed down his aged face.

It continued to wait for him, waited as he got the energy to open his eyes, to blink at the hazy landscape before him to see its hulking mass.

It waited for him to acknowledge it, deadened eyes looking pathetically up at it, slowly closing as he sighed, shoulders limp and fingers grazing the yellowed grass.

It waited for him to speak.

“It's fine. Whenever you're ready, of course.”

It gave him the moment, his half hearted theatrical gesture towards it waved as he hung his head, and then-

The shadow lunged.


	2. Wrap about the neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Power, anger, for that long leads to violence.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine-”

Talking to no one again, but that was better than talking to someone, ha ha.

So much better, his arms trembling, hands clawing and unclawing, shaking so much as he tried to think, tongue heavy and thick in his mouth. 

He was walking, autumn red and orange leaves crushed underfoot, and he knew not where he was going but the most sensible thought in his head was telling him to keep going, don't stop, don't stop, if you stop you-

_You_ -

He hissed air in between his teeth, face a sharp snarl, gaze fixed onto the ground as he wrapped shaking arms around himself, hands tightly grabbing and squeezing his thin arms, hunching his shoulders as he picked up his pace.

Needed to go, needed to leave, keep going, don't stop don't stop don't-

Don't look at the shadow trailing behind him, stick thin legs clacking soundlessly against the dry ground, beak hanging wide open and spines waving in the air as its blind eyes continued to watch him, don't look at it don't look at it don't-

He stopped, shaking, grinding his teeth at the sudden hot flash that made him lightheaded, a headache growing behind his eyes. The shadow was silent yet he knew, knew it had stopped as well.

Don't look don't look don't-

He glanced around.

Nothing, nothing, nothing was here, shadow at his back, and the sudden surge of emotion was almost too much to handle. He wavered on his feet, almost collapsed as his knees grew weak, and something raged inside of him, clawed up his chest even as he struggled to breath.

“I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm just fine-”

Muttering to himself, even as his hands tightened around himself, unease and discomfort crawling up his spine, something shivering inside of him.

The shadow clacked quietly to itself, waited.

So so, so very patient.

White hot surge of emotion, a rush and he wobbled forward a few steps, keep moving, his hands aching as he started forward again, wanting, wanting, wanting wanting wanting wanting to-

- _wrap his hands around its neck squeeze the life out of it watch its eyes die watch it die kill it kill it kill it kill it_ -

He shuddered, nausea rising in his stomach, a pounding ache rising in his chest and ballooning out in waves, making him tremble even more. Legs pushing forward more, needed to keep going, needed to get away, needed to-

He stumbled, almost tripped, autumn clothed trees towering over him, and the something trembled inside his chest, a surge of complete and utter loathing, and-

_Where was one of the pawns when he needed one?_

He stopped trying to walk forward altogether, shadow gracing him with its close presence, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes as hard as he could, trying to calm the ruckus his mind had started, trying to focus back.

The shadow inched closer.

“I'm fine, I'll be fine, just need, just need to-”

He shook, curling his back and finally sliding down, balancing on his feet and pressing his hands spread against his face, knees drawn up to his face.

“-I need to, need to find one, just one, just one, no one would-”

A hissing bite off of the sentence, the meaning behind it throbbing in his chest, and his whole body shook, an ugly mixture of horror and fear and absolute giddiness thrashing inside his chest, sloshing around in his head. 

“-I'll, I'll be quick, fast, fast, I know, just one, I need, I need this-”

He didn't he knew that, yet the words poured out his throat and it felt like he was falling apart, piece by tiny piece, the shadow leech towering over him nearby, waiting.

The absolutely wicked excitement ran through him, shuddering as he curled up against the ground, forehead in the dirt, at the sudden thrust of memory of the sudden rush of Want, sudden throbbing, begging thing, to always want and-

“-just him, one pawn, that's all, I'll be quick, so very quick, wont remember, not know what would even hit him, so very quick I know it'll be fine, I'm fine-”

God he wanted to rip-

He wanted to tear-

He wanted to-

To-

The shadow crawled closer, hanging over him, its whispers low and criticising.

For a few moments all he could feel was his own heartbeat, hard and fast, breathing in and out, trying to get back together. His hands clawed into the dirt, a snarl stuck on his face, but slowly he sat up and let out a heavy breath.

“I've…”

The shadow already knew, of course, but speaking past the lump in his throat, pushing back the hardened feelings in his chest with narrowed eyes, still trying to catch his breath, and the shadow was ever so patient. Almost as if it was being polite.

“...made a mistake.”

No response, of course, just talking to himself.

The light was fading, dusk ending, and soon it would be dark.

Too late for that, closing his eyes and trying to breath, trying to keep air in his lungs, trying to not remember-

_How it felt_

-and instead focusing on the cold fall air, sharp and tinted with winter.

It wasn't working, but he was doing his best-

_His hands still ached_

-though his best was never enough.

For a moment it was actually quiet, almost peaceful, the shadow watching.

And he huffed air from between his teeth, the faint fringes of hysteria still crawling against the back of his mind, white hot tendrils snaking in even as he tried to stay calm.

The shadows presence wasn't helping, not at all, but it wasn't the creatures fault.

He has-

_Gotten carried away_

-been alone for too long.

Understatement of the century, but no one cared one way or another. No one ever cared, and he highly doubted anyone had even cared in the beginning.

“...Wouldn’t blame them.”

His voice was hoarse, throat sore and jaw aching with how he had been clenching it still the entire time, sharp ill fitted teeth scraping and gritted together. 

“Just get it over with.”

For a moment, tendrils of white hot panic slowly burning back into his chest, to clog up his lungs, he almost thought that it wouldn't do it.

But the moment passed, and it lumbered forward, aching presence washing over him, sharp and suffocating in its intentions. It's lunge forward was expected, and not at all avoided.


	3. Road leads to nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding the world you made, your world, as changed as it is so soon just makes everything worse.

“I don't care, I don't care at all!”

Yelling, voice echoing in the near silent forest, autumn leaves and forever green pines towering around him, crowding the small clearing in the morning light. The shadows were too young to obscure everything as of yet, waiting till dusk, but one such shadow stood patiently behind him, blinking too many milky cream eyes.

He was ignoring that one.

“Not one bit!”

More of a snarl that time, baring his teeth at nothing, and with that he swung his foot at the metal rods that were the center point of the clearing. The harsh clang of it was muted, a dull thump as his foot connected, and then the pain was sharp and narrow and he hopped about almost comically for a moment, hissing in air as he held his foot. The railroad, for all that it was worth, was not the least bit provoked. It continued to sit silently and be covered in slow growth, plants and thorny vines cradling it as a few flowers blossomed over its old polished metal.

“Damn you!”

Quieter this time, more hissed, and his foot throbbed and he'd be limping but nothing fatal. Because why not drag it all out.

He resolutely ignored the silently clicking shadow, its very presence pushing against his shoulders, trying to drag him down, and instead he limped over to an uncovered part of the railroad, steel not even flecked with rust, as pure and clean as if brand new.

Impossible, but he had no say in any of these matters.

Red roses bloomed nearby, a moderately large bush that sprawled over much of the railroad, and he hesitantly wandered near, glowering at the vines and thorns that attempted to cover the new steel.

Something in his chest shivered, a drop in his belly as he observed the petals, and the urge was there, some absurd temptation to stick them in his mouth, but now was not the time for that. Maybe later, if he was in a worse mood.

The shadow inched its way closer to him, ever patient, ever waiting.

He closed his eyes, stuttering in a breath and feeling his insides flip, feeling everything in him shudder. He didn't like being here.

It made him feel...unreal.

“This wasn't yours.”

No one was listening, but then again, no one had ever did in the first place. His words meant nothing, nothing to himself, to the shadows, to pawns or even Her in general. He had nothing of value or meaning to say to any of them, and they all absolutely knew it.

But, at times, he just couldn't stop himself. Sometimes one just had to hear their own voice. He had to feel like he was real, like he meant something sometimes, even if it was just a few words here or there. If he didn't he'd go mad.

Not like he wasn't already, but that was beside the point. 

“It's not as if you could just-”

He stopped himself, biting his tongue as his hand wavered over a rose, and then it dropped and he sighed, hunching his shoulders and dropping his gaze. The colors were bright neon, flickering and wobbling in his squinted vision, and the shadow was ever patient even as it clicked silently and wiggled its spines in anticipation.

He slowly benched himself on the metal rod that jutted out from the undergrowth, balancing himself onto its pure and clean surface, the blooming roses seeming to watch him, thorns drawn close. He curled his back, fingers entwined together before he shuddered, face hardening into a frowning snarl as he wrapped his thin arms around himself in a makeshift hug, leaning forward as he shut his eyes tightly. He'd rather not see.

Not at all.

The shadow clicked together silently, excitedly.

“We'd all rather be there than-”

But he couldn't quite say that, could he?

Couldn't quite fix anything at all, could he?

Made it all worse, so much worse.

He was shaking, trying to hold himself together, and he absolutely hated how alone he was, how quiet it was.

The shadow was there, but he wasn't ready yet, not yet.

Not yet.

“If I had just-”

His throat clogged, broken voice stuttering out slowly before giving up, and he wished there was something, anything he could do about the emptiness in his chest, this throbbing deep ache that curdled his bones and would sour the very air around him. 

“It's become so much harder-”

“And if I hadn't been such a coward-”

“I would've taken care of it then-”

That made his stomach drop, a sudden terrifying moment as he realized that he would have, back then, if he had known. Made him slide down from the railroad rod, back pressing against the metal, drawing up his knees to hide his face against and shiver uselessly in the new morning air.

Too much of a coward then, too much of a coward now.

And, if he had just gone through with it then-

-he would have never come back.

A harsh realization, some absurd mixture of absolute horror and thick shame, too late wanting curling in his lungs at the tempting thought.

No one else would have thought much of him then. Just a passing thought, nothing more, and She would have gone on without him. She had plans, so many, and he hadn't been a part of many of them, or any of them at all really.

But he hadn't let Her go, had dragged Her down here with him.

The shadow whispered, silent, and he ignored it.

His own thoughts were strong enough anyway, it was not as if the shadow had much of a job at this point.

“And here I find it,” he drew in a shaky breath, blinking open his eyes and curling up with his arms around his knees, seeing nothing but the wavering lines of the dark morning world, “so, so much easier to carry through.”

A breeze blew by, a cold front that seeped through his clothing, made him shiver against, goosebumps over his skin.

Of course it was easier here. He had no worries of never coming back.

That was something he just wasn't allowed.

The others may earn it, in due time, but him? 

Never.

A harsh noise as he screwed up his eyes, tried to quell the thrum of emotion building in his chest, the ugly hiss of a whimper. And here he was, not even grateful, but there was a reason for that, however undeserved or cared for.

He absolutely loathed the fact that he'd be forgotten here. No one would care to remember him in any way. Even She will disregard him, though he was sure She has already done so by now.

A nothing, a literal speck, to be ignored.

No one would remember him.

No one would-

A hiss, not from the shadow, it was getting harder to breath, as if his chest was collapsing, that ache crawling up his spine and suffocating him.

“Fine. Fine then.”

He could practically feel the shadow crawl closer, much closer, but oh so slowly.

He glanced at it, looming over him, before burying his head against his knees and drawing in a shuddering breath, curling himself tighter, heartbeat loud in his ears.

It would be too much, asking for it to be quick.

If he had the willpower back then, if he had known and had not been a coward, he would have made the mistake of dragging it out.

Suffocating was long and painful. A broken neck was maddening. He's seen them both out here, has caused them both, has went through them both.

Combine them with a noose and he would have had to make sure to lock the door.

Wouldn't have wanted anyone barging in.

But no one would be doing that now, as the shadow hung over him and waited.

“Do get it over with.”

The creature pounced.


	4. Understatement of the century

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's probably a good thing you're no longer under an old name. 
> 
> The rain just makes you feel like your old self all too much.

“I know, I know, if I had just-”

Bit his tongue, harsh spark of iron pain and heat as he dug his hands into his thinning hair, legs pulled up to his chest, looking out blindly into the rain.

A fall rain, a cloud burst, and he was already soaked, suit sodden and clinging to his form, the humidity high even as he shivered in the cold air, teeth chattering every once in awhile. The rain poured down, dripping from the branches of the bushy seedless tree he was sitting under, almost hidden away in the needles of the sickly pine. 

The shadow stared out from under the rain, completely unaffected, blinking huge cream white eyes. It waited.

“It could have been better, would have-”

His teeth chattered, the words falling from his mouth almost without prompting, wide eyes staring out into the rain and seeing nothing at all. He clawed his fingers over his head, tingling hints of pain as he closed his eyes, bowed his head and pressed hands over his face, shuddering in a breath of the rains soaked air. His heart pounded in his chest, hard and harsh that made his chest ache, made everything that made him him throb with an emptiness he absolutely detested.

“My fault but-”

He hated this, hated it with every fiber of his being, hated how slow and crawling and mocking this was, that the shadow was.

He had no power over it, and it was making him lose his mind.

“Already lost that-”

The shadow was silent, massive body shuddering and throbbing with swirled shadow, and too many eyes were watching him, waiting for him.

A part of him was begging, whispering and tugging and trying to fill his chest, but he just couldn't. He couldn't go out into the rain and just do it, he just…

Even after all this time, he was still a coward.

A pathetic one at that.

He curled up as much as he could, hands pressed firm against his face, mouth curled into a twisted snarl, fighting the rising wave that was flooding his chest, his mind. His throat was clogged, swallowing thickly as a part of him tried to get back under control, tried to bring itself together.

“Useless, should have-”

“If I had just-”

“Goddamn it I could have-”

He hissed at himself, a confusing mix of ruffled rage and tinged panic, shame that curdled in him and rotted in his chest. He was trembling not just from the cold wet now, everything too much, the rains noise and his own shaking voice too much, and he pressed his face against his drawn up knees, hands digging into his thinning hair, eyes screwed shut as he bared his teeth in a mix of loathing and pain. Everything was just too much, and it's always been too much and it'll always be too much, and he'd always sit here and do nothing, always always always, never to fix anything ever-

He was such a useless waste.

He has always been this way.

And he'll always be this way.

Something about the realization, how starkly it spread in his mind made him curl tighter, a sound not unlike a whimper slipping from his throat, and he tugged at his thinning scraggy hair, trying to feel something else for once. 

“I had the chance, I had-”

His words were hissed from bared teeth, pushed out of him with every breath, and it dragged out of him and left scars in its wake, words had meaning and were oh so very painful. They ripped up his throat, tangled in his mouth as he tried to keep steadily breathing, cold and wet and numb. 

Almost explaining to someone, to himself, as if he could just excuse himself, as if he had any right to that. Who did he think he was, thinking he deserved anything at all, anything like this?

“I had the _time_ , I had everything I needed, all I had to do was-”

All he had to do was just do it. That was all.

And he hadn't.

No, he had instead tucked everything away in his chest, had fiddled with his glasses and checked the Codex and had made his way to the theater. Had made the biggest mistake of his life.

He had ruined everything.

And he could have avoided it if he had just-

“I-i just want it to stop, I want everything to stop, please-”

He wasn't pleading to anyone, no one was listening, not even the waiting shadow, all it wanted was before it and all it had to do was be patient. Talking to no one, begging to no one, no one was listening, no one cared-

“It's fine, it's fine, everything is fine-”

“All I had to do was-”

“Would have been easy, so quick, no one would have noticed no one would have cared-”

He choked on his own words, a shudder in his chest with every breath. It _hurt_ , everything _hurt_ in him, every breath taxing and draining and ever so _painful_ , the realization almost _too much_.

If he had just-

Done it-

Back then-

Then-

Nothing would have happened-

Now.

No one would have noticed.

No one would have cared.

And he knew this.

“I'm-”

Biting at his tongue, a faint taste of iron blood, trying to block the world out, trying to block himself out, biting the apology back because it meant nothing.

He deserved worse.

He deserved so, so much worse.

He shuddered in breaths, shaky and gut twisting and coiling inside of him, heartbeat irregular and loud and a faint ringing throughout his ears, echoing over the slowing rain. 

Everything _hurt_.

Why hadn't he just. Done it then.

Why.

Another fitful breath, and his body was sore and shivering, aching deep in his chest, hands finally letting go of his hair. He slowly curled them over his chest, grabbed himself and bowed, hugging himself as tightly as he could. He wasn't crying.

He hated crying.

Squeezing the wetness from the corners of his eyes, fighting the lump in his throat, and he stayed still like that for a few moments, every breath exhaled from his nose as he tried to not think of anything, staring into the darkness of his eyelids, staring at nothing and thinking of nothing and trying so very hard to be nothing.

The rain finally started to taper off, a soft drizzle that was soon to end.

The shadow waited for him, and he didn't even look at it, just raised his head ever so slightly and cleared his throat, trembling fitfully as his chest became hollow and numb.

As if he wasn't already, as if he had anything good left in him. There was nothing in him anymore, nothing, and that was fine.

Nobody cared.

And that was fine.

“Do it.”

He couldn't see it, but he could practically feel the huge thing lurch forward, silent steps as it crawled over to him.

It loomed, heavy and huge with too many eyes he could feel, and he bowed his head and grit his teeth and let it happen.

The shadows were always trying to fix his mistakes.

It was just too bad that it was never permanent.

The shadow unhinged it's dark jaw and lunged forward.


	5. Gets worse every time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good for you.

“Shut. Up.”

Hissed the words, low quiet syllables, stressing them out through tight bared teeth, and he resolutely avoided looking at the animated shadow, its huge white milk eyes staring fixedly at him, and he wasn't looking, he wasn't looking, he was completely ignoring its presence.

The wall at his back was too solid, too clean, only the barest of plant growth crawling at its base, and the rest of it was crumbled, still all too clean, still too new to be decaying as it was, roof gone and door ajar and a blown in section on the other side, open to the wind blown leaves and dirt and weeds that strewn its empty floors and he couldn't make himself go into it, no matter the chill of the wind, he just couldn't. Do. It.

The shadow whispered, low and garbled and much too familiar, and he had already covered his ears, curled up with his face against his knees but now he closed his eyes, face snarling into a harsh frown as he tried to will it away.

“Shut up.”

He could practically feel it moving, getting closer, long, slow strides of its stilt legs, the silent clicking of its spines against each other, and he kicked his feet into the flattened dusty cold earth and pushed himself even more into the wall, hunching over as he fought the urge to claw his own ears off, to rip his own face apart.

What was that saying, so long ago? See no evil, hear no evil, think no evil? Or was it say no evil?

“Be. Quiet.”

It might not have even been his saying, might have been someone else's, long after his own time, but he had no way to know now. No one was telling him.

If he were to go back down however-

The shadows whispers seemed to get louder, excited, and he just knew it was hovering over him, not waiting like usual, no, it wanted and wanted and Wanted, and it would take take Take, just like everything else here, _just like him_ -

“Shut up!”

Eyes open, glaring at the unabashed dark shade being in front of him, hissing in breathe as his chest heaved, clawing his hands into the dirt as he trembled, and it watched patiently from its distance, having not moved an inch. It didn't need to.

“I don't care!”

A harsh snarl, raging as he tried to catch his breath, and his mouth tasted like ash and his chest ached, the pounding of his heart heavy and stuttered and making him shudder in disgust, and he curled up again, knees drawn tight as he covered his head, wheezing. Nausea withered in his gut, pain curdling as he trembled, ignored the shadows hissing.

“Just shut up!”

He didn't feel good.

Not at all.

The shadow was delighted by this, he was sure.

His breathing was harder now, as if his lungs were closing up, and he wrapped his arms about himself, gripping his suit tight and trying to bring back a sense of stability. The shadow whispered quieter, drawn out, and he bowed his head.

He hated being here. He shouldn't have found this place.

This wasn't supposed to be here.

“It's not supposed to be here.”

A statement, a fact, yet he could feel the wall behind him in all its starkness, its stable bluntness, and it really didn't matter if he didn't like this place.

It didn't matter.

The shadow chittered, though it hadn't moved an inch, and he knew it didn't speak and knew it didn't move and knew it couldn't make any noise whatsoever but he could hear it, so many voices suddenly rising at once babbling nonsense in a cacophony of horrid grating sound-

And then it was silent.

It took a moment for him to breath, the aching in his chest only increasing with each beat of his heart.

It was silent.

He could practically hear himself think now. 

It felt like an echo.

It was so silent.

The wall behind him dug into his back. The shadow waited patiently.

“That...it…”

He pressed his hands against his face, hissing in a breath, and it was just so quiet, only the wind through the fall leaves, through the grasses and undergrowth, nothing else, nothing at all.

“Doesn't matter, does it?”

His belly flipped, discomfort as something in his chest twinged, and his heart beat just as hard, pounded loud in his ears, overtaking the wind. His head hurt, pressure behind his eyes and wrapped around his head, and every breath was stuttered, fighting back whatever was trying to get out. 

The shadow whispered.

He curled up, rocking ever so slightly, trying to grind it all out between his tightly clenched teeth, jaw set as he hissed breath in and out.

“It doesn't matter. Never did.”

It whispered, and crawled closer. He could see it, even with his eyes closed.

More gibberish, more words he didn't know or understand, nor cared to figure out, and it bounced along in his head, quiet and subtle and background noise.

Not static, not the comfort of a buzzing nothingness, but a constant nag for attention.

“Never did matter. Why would...”

The shadow clacked its jaws together, loud and piercing and completely silent, and he shuddered in complete and utter disgust, an emotion that wormed in his chest and clogged up his throat. His jaw was starting to ache from how stiff he was keeping it, and he huffed out a breath through his nose, chest aching.

“Better if I just…”

The noise was getting louder. A wave, background like the wind through the trees, and yet it made the clearing feel as if it was just choked with a crowd, laughter and babbling and yelling in his ears.

The ringing echo was being overridden, forgotten, disappearing in the noise of his own head.

“...It doesn't matter. I never did anyway.”

Something about saying it made his heart drop, stutter, and it took a moment to catch his breath, shivering harshly. It was so cold, and he was so cold, his chest burned, a light headed flood making him press his forehead against his knees and breathe deeply, the nausea oozing in his belly and swallowing his nerves in acid.

He didn't feel good.

“Doesn't matter.”

He curled his arms around his chest, to wrap around and grab at his shoulders, clench into the fabric of his suit, and he kept his eyes closed as more words dripped from his throat, from his drowning lungs, and something was aching inside of him. It twisted in his chest, pulled, but did nothing at all to the noise surrounding him.

“I don't matter. I never did.”

A wheeze of breath, and he didn't feel good at all.

When was the last time he had eaten? When was the last time he had slept? When was the last time he had taken care of himself?

Did that even matter, here?

The shadow clicked itself together, and the voices were gibbering a little louder, suddenly pitched even more.

“S, shut-”

He had to press his hands against his ears, trembling fitfully at the sudden rush, trying to fight back the lump in his throat. Everything was just too much. Everything was just always out to get him, and now it has all converged here, right dead center.

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!”

He raged at it all, the sound and the shadow and the building behind him and the trees and the wind and everything, everything that had followed him and had latched onto him and that had seeped into him and rooted itself painstakingly close and personal, everything that made him him, everything that was him and everything that would be him, everything and-

He shuddered, a sudden flare of pain and sickness and a swirling dizziness that made him tremble and almost made him collapse to his side.

He didn't feel good.

But that-

“Doesn't matter.”

He finally did slump over, arms shaking and weak as he carefully let himself slide down to lay in the dirt, back still pressed against the wall that shouldn't be there, and he curled up and pressed his hands against his face, hissing in breath quick and shallow. It felt like he couldn't get enough air in.

It felt like he was in so much more pain than he really was.

It felt like he was dying.

Maybe he was.

That was perfectly-

“...normal. That...that happens.”

It happens.

It happens a lot.

The shadow was silent. 

So was everything else.

It wasn't a blessing when he could hear his own stagnant, broken thoughts now. The real ones, without an echo.

“...Please…”

It was the only thing he could think of, curled up and holding his head, settled in the dirt and dust and weeds, as lowly as ever. 

The shadow crawled, silent, and he could feel its presence now, heavy and foreboding. 

It was pitiful, how he was using this loophole, how he was doing this.

But he couldn't stand himself, couldn't stand the thoughts and feelings and every little bit of him that made who he was. He couldn't.

“Please.”

Someone would be angry, at how he found the way to use this. Someone would be more than irritated, at how easy this way out was for him, how easy it was for him to do now.

But that someone wouldn't know.

Because that someone knew he didn't matter anymore. That someone knew he was worth nothing.

That he was useless.

And that someone had lost all interest in him, forgotten about him, a long time ago.

The shadow waited a moment longer, as if for more, but none came.

Then it leaned over, mouth gaping, and striked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of that.
> 
> Unfortunately writing it all out didn't seem to help.


End file.
